Getting Laid, Getting Lucky
by Ly Merrick
Summary: Puck throws a lot of parties. Sometimes Santana gets Rachel really confused. And then things start to come together. (One-Shot)


**Pairing:** Rachel/Santana

**Synopsis:** Santana does some surprising things when she's drunk, but Rachel's starting to think there are actual reasons for the things she's doing.

**Warning: **_**There is underage drinking in this fic. I do not condone underage drinking whatsoever, nor is this to condone drinking too much even if you are of age. **__We all party and get out of hand sometimes, however, so I'm not going to say I'm a saint. For disclaimer's purpose, I just want people to know that the writing of this fic doesn't reflect anything but entertainment value and I'm not saying drinking is a good thing. So … yeah. This is for fun but doesn't reflect my beliefs._

**Author's Note:** So this is a one-shot requested by faultedxintimacy. An anon requested a drabble for another pairing using this song, but I didn't have the heart to use it for that. Upon discussing it, I realized that the song ("Heart Attack" by Trey Songz) could be more easily and better used for Pezberry. And so the idea for this one-shot was born. Hope you all enjoy!

_We share something so common__  
__Still so rare, uncommon all__  
__Never been here before__  
__So high, we're still climbing__  
__Even here inside these walls__  
__Breaking each other's hearts_

"Gimme that," Santana snatched the bottle out of Puck's hand and rolled her eyes. She had guessed wrong on the coin flip, and as a part of the game, had to take a drink or take clothing off. The Latina tipped back the bottle of Jack, taking a healthy swig. She'd taken her shirt off last turn and only hand pants and undergarments left.

Rachel was watching in a kind of tipsy-but-bewildered frame of mind. She hadn't entered in this game and she was kind of glad, mostly because she wasn't too keen on taking her clothes off in front of all the boys from Glee club. The girls she didn't mind so much, because girls didn't make her feel shy. At least not most of the time. She was just sitting on the couch watching as Sam knocked back a swig and Brittany followed by passing the coin along the circle (having guessed successfully which side it would land on). The next player was Quinn, then Artie, and Rachel eventually lost track of who had done what.

However, Santana was sitting on the couch beside her in just jeans and a bra, and it was little distracting. Rachel was drunk, so it was a little harder not to look at tan brown skin next to her. Her eyes lingered on the way Santana's stomach was taut, and she had what appeared to be a four-pack.

Sylvester kept her Cheerios in shape.

The Latina must have noticed Rachel staring at her because she was smirking. She slurred a bit when she spoke, "Have a drink, Berry," she pushed a red cup into Rachel's hand.

Rachel nodded, "That's a good idea," she said, her eyes going a little wide when she realized she'd just been checking out a girl and not just any girl, but one that didn't like her a whole lot. At least not that she knew of. She really wasn't close friends with any of these people. She sipped the full glass – it was some kind of drink that looked like milk but it certainly wasn't milk. It tasted sweet with just a little hint of something she couldn't quite place. "What is this?"

"Rum Chata," Santana replied simply, sipping her own cup. The quarter came her way and the Latina picked it up, flipping it in the air and calling it. She got it wrong. Since she'd swigged last time, she had to strip. Rachel only realized this since the Latina was standing up, unbuttoning her jeans. And Rachel's eyes went a little wide. She took a large swallow of the alcoholic beverage in her hand and tried not to stare but she had never seen Santana's ass this close. Even in a pair of underoos, Rachel could tell that Santana had a really _nice _ass.

"I'm so drunk," Rachel breathed quietly and covered her face with her arm. "So drunk," she repeated. Santana sat beside her, apparently not bothered at all that she was sitting there in only a bra and underwear.

Everyone else was mostly half-naked, too. Nobody seemed to mind.

Rachel felt overdressed. The thought made her laugh and when a little bit of her drink splattered on her pants, she mumbled, "Ooops," she dabbed at it with her finger.

At some point the game must have ended because there was some debate about how far the girls were allowed to strip; the boys obviously didn't care how far _they _would strip, but were dead set on seeing beyond bra and underwear. Quinn and Brittany argued for the modesty of the girls, and the group decided on another drinking game.

Santana was slipping into her jeans when she almost fell back. Rachel's hand flew out instinctively and caught Santana's hand to try to steady her. It was brief enough to be inconsequential, but maybe the alcohol made Rachel feel like she could appreciate the warmth and softness of Santana's hand a little more. She was kind of fascinated with it until she realized she was holding on to Santana's hand.

The Latina collapsed back on the couch, seemingly not bothering with a shirt. Rachel blinked.

The group lapsed into a basic truth or dare drinking game. At some point Rachel must have agreed because everyone was looking at her as if she was supposed to answer with one or the other. She glanced for some indication who was asking her, and Sam snapped his finger near her face.

"Are you drunk?"

"I think so," she murmured softly. Her body felt like it was some kind of warm liquid, her limbs all jelly. "Uhm… truth."

Every truth was accompanied with one shot. Dares were accompanied with two shots. If she didn't answer the truth, it was three shots and a mandatory dare.

"Would you make out with Artie?"

Rachel let out a kind of laugh and looked at Artie apologetically, "It's not that I wouldn't it's just …" A shot was shoved in her hand and she hesitated with it at her lips. Beside her, Santana shoved her shoulder.

"Come on Berry, take the shot," the Latina encouraged her.

It tasted terrible, and Rachel's face contorted as she set down the empty shot glass. More questions for everyone else, and when Quinn was asked if she'd rather make out with Santana or Rachel, she was a little insulted that Quinn picked Santana and not her.

Not like she was attractive. Obviously she had nothing on Santana's tan skin and four-pack.

"I don't know, Berry's bangable," Santana murmured beside her, seemingly unphased.

"I'm what?" Rachel turned around, narrowing her eyes because her vision was a little blurry from the alcohol. "Did you say I'm _bangable?_"

Santana laughed, shrugged her shoulders.

"You'd bang anything with a vag," Puck pointed out.

"_Not,_" Santana answered. "I would not."

Rachel was still a little confused. She lay her head against the back of the couch and stared into empty space as if she could discern what it meant that Santana thought she was 'bangable.'

It was Santana's turn and Rachel wasn't sure what the Latina picked, she only heard the group erupting in cat-calls. Santana took two shots – a dare, Rachel realized.

It took a second to realize the dare involved her, because Santana was moving toward her and suddenly Rachel tasted rum against her lips; Santana's lips were incredibly soft and she melted back into the couch a little when Santana's tongue dipped against her lips.

Surely she was only dizzy from the alcohol.

Rachel felt Santana's fingers near her throat before the Latina pulled away. "Oh," she mumbled softly and found herself drawing in a large, shaking breath. It wasn't every day Rachel got to kiss a pretty girl.

And then Rachel realized that was a weird thought to have. She chose truth when it was her turn, took her shot.

"Would you rather have sex with Puck or with Santana?" Sam called out the question. The glee club laughed and hooted at that question. Puck drew himself up like he were the big man on campus, and Santana flipped both Sam and Puck off.

"Oh," Rachel felt a little confused. She had to think through the question for a moment, looking at Puck – who wiggled his eyebrows – and then at Santana. "I think Santana would be better in bed because she kisses better."

Laughter erupted around the circle of drunken teenagers. Puck was putting his thumbs down in disagreement.

Santana stuck her tongue out at Puck and looped an arm around Rachel's shoulders – still without a shirt, so there was a lot of bare, warm skin wrapped around Rachel's shoulders. "Sorry, Puck."

Rachel didn't look at Santana, and mostly she disregarded her own answer as just something she said because she was drunk.

"Okay, Santana," the rounds came back to the Latina again, "If you could have sex with Quinn or Rachel, who would it be?" It was Puck who asked this one.

Rachel cleared her throat and got up from the couch, stumbled a little bit into the kitchen. She was suddenly very thirsty. She didn't hear Santana's answer; she only heard a few surprised noises from the drunken group.

The game went by quicker after this, the questions leaning into safer territory (for Rachel at least) and she was starting to feel extra dizzy by the time the game ended. She thought she must have drank quite a lot, because she was humming to herself and feeling how soft her hair was instead of paying attention to everyone else.

It was late that night and being so drunk she knew she'd be passing out at Puck's; her fathers would be furious if they found out everything that had gone on at the party. So the boys separated and headed into Puck's basement to crash. The girls decided to spread out over the living room and in Puck's room. Rachel didn't know why but someone was grabbing her hand and helping her walk up the stairs. She felt bare skin and realized it was Santana.

That was nice of Santana.

Rachel wobbled a little as she waited for Santana to turn down the covers, and climbed into the bed. She didn't know why Santana and she were sleeping alone in Puck's room, but she didn't particularly mind. She also wondered what Santana had meant when she said that Rachel was bangable and sort of implied that she'd rather sleep with Rachel than Quinn.

It was all vague thoughts and marveling at how dizzy she was until she felt Santana crawl into bed beside her.

"Why are we sleeping in the same room?" She asked Santana, though her voice sounded far away.

"Because I don't trust the guys not to try and pull some bullshit. You can't hold your alcohol."

"You're drunk, too," Rachel pointed out. "You're still half-naked."

"Yeah, but at least I could walk up the stairs," Santana scoffed beside her. "It's not like I like you or anything."

"Okay," Rachel answered simply.

####

It wasn't til she woke up with a massive hangover that she realized Santana had basically admitted to protecting Rachel from any unwanted advances. And she thought that was a little weird, but kind of nice of the Latina. She didn't think she had it in her, or even really cared about anything that happened to Rachel.

Although Rachel agreed to come to Puck's next big get-together, she decided she wouldn't be drinking like she had last time. Not only had she probably embarrassed herself with how intoxicated she was, but she felt like maybe she could have a genuinely good time without getting wasted. After all, she wasn't _that _kind of teenager.

The rest of them seemingly were. This time there were no drinking games, but there was a lot of drinking. The guys were drinking and playing MW3 (Quinn had joined them – the blonde had a penchant for video games) while the girls drank and watched. It was pretty entertaining watching Puck try and stumble into the kitchen only to realize he'd gone in completely the wrong direction and ended up in the garage.

Rachel was starting to notice a trend, though. It had to do with Santana.

Finn, overly drunk, had cornered her in the kitchen when she was getting a soda.

"Finn, I'm really not comfortable," she was trying to push him away, but since he had such a height and weight advantage, there wasn't a lot she could do. She thought about kneeing him in the crotch, because his hands were on her shoulders and he was trying to convince her why they should get back together.

"You don't get it, Rach, you're like … you're like perfect, and I could be your guy," the boy was slurring his words and he was insisting the same point over and over again.

"Finn," Rachel grunted, physically using her body weight to push Finn off of her. It worked – sort of. She really didn't want to have to hurt him. She didn't like hurting people, physically or otherwise. And she might have to resort to violence if he didn't back off.

"Hey, I'm just trying to show you what a good guy I am –"

"Hey, good guy," Rachel heard Santana's voice, saw her grab Finn's arm, and it happened quicker than she could register. Santana twisted Finn's arm up behind his back until the boy was bent half-over trying to relieve the pain of it. "You really should learn how to hold your booze, because scaring the shit out of your ex-girlfriend generally is something sober dudes don't do." The Latina had Finn making a lot of pained noise, but she wasn't letting him go. "Then again, you're kind of a douchebag so I'm pretty sure you'd do this to her if you were sober, too."

When Finn finally broke free, he swung around as if he were going to hit Santana.

The Latina was quicker and seemed to have a mean right hook. Rachel watched Santana's fist connect with his jaw, heard the audible crack of her fist against the bone. The shorter girl gasped and covered her mouth. Even though Finn was a jerk, and it _was_ satisfying seeing him get payback, she still felt sort of bad for him. The boy toppled to the floor, groaning and holding his jaw.

Santana didn't say anything to Rachel; she stepped over Finn and grabbed the last bottle of Jack, striding out of the kitchen like nothing had happened.

####

It never failed. There was always some sexual undertone to the games they played at parties. Of course, Rachel mused, they were all a bunch of hormonal teenagers. They were sitting in a circle, and it was Rachel's turn. She kind of hated this game; she'd only agreed to play since Finn wasn't there tonight. After his little stunt the last party, she felt honestly scared of him. Obviously he hadn't quite let go of the idea that Rachel didn't want to be with him. And she felt a little defenseless against a boy his height. She could only do so much, and had a tendency toward flight, not fight.

She leaned out, gave the bottle a good spin, and it landed on Brittany, who turned out to be a pretty good kisser. Rachel was starting to think she liked kissing girls better than she liked kissing boys, because despite knowing she had no attraction to Brittany, she was reminded how soft girls' lips were. She sat back on her calves, watching the others spin and kiss.

Santana didn't join until the next round, arriving a little late to the party. She sat down across from Rachel and was sipping at a cup of something, Rachel wasn't sure what it was but the Latina's face looked a little flushed so she guessed it was alcohol. When Santana spun the bottle, it landed on Rachel. The Latina chuckled out loud, rolled her head back and looked at the ceiling for a second, "Of course."

Rachel wanted to ask what that was supposed to mean but she got distracted by Santana setting the red cup down and crawling over to her. The Latina's eyes were stunningly dark, and Rachel wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel, but Santana leaned in and caught Rachel in a warm, open-mouthed kiss. Rachel's heart fluttered when she felt Santana's teeth tug on her bottom lip, and then her tongue run along the very same spot. Rachel tasted Rum Chata on Santana's lips and realized her hand had instinctively gripped the back of Santana's neck.

She didn't know how long kisses were supposed to last during spin the bottle, but Rachel was pretty sure this lasted longer than that. When Santana pulled away, she kind of lingered, her warm breath against Rachel's lips. And, she couldn't confirm it, but Rachel was pretty sure Santana had brushed her lips against Rachel's just one more time before pulling away.

Rachel had to remind herself to breathe; she also had to pull herself together because she didn't want anyone to know that she _really _enjoyed kissing Santana.

"That was _really, _really gay," Quinn commented, seemingly with approval.

"Shut up," Santana laughed, shoving her friend by the shoulder and grabbing her cup. She took a swig of what Rachel now knew to be Rum Chata, and her eyes only briefly met Rachel's before looking elsewhere.

#####

Rachel was in the bathroom that following Monday, washing her hands and taking a break from all the noise in the hallways, when Santana strode in. She didn't say anything to Rachel, just glanced her way and examined her reflection.

The shorter of the two couldn't help it; she found herself looking at Santana's reflection with a kind of silent, questioning gaze.

"Can I help you, Gimli?"

"That's not my name, Santana Lopez."

"Oh, sorry, I meant Mighty Mouse."

Rachel's eyebrows knitted together, "That doesn't even make any sense."

Santana seemed to be done fixing her hair at about the time Rachel spoke. She didn't acknowledge Rachel as she walked by her. "Shut up, Berry. Nobody asked you."

The diva only sighed and watched the door swing shut.

####

Rachel became convinced that there was more to Santana than sarcastic barbs and sexuality. Even though she kept everyone at bay, she still confused Rachel. For example, it just so happened that she was at lunch when Finn came to her table. Only the minute he stopped to open his mouth, Santana appeared out of nowhere, shoving him hard, "I think you want to vacate, T-Rex."

"Dude, Santana," Finn looked offended, "What is your problem?"

"You are my problem. You practically mauled Rachel when you were drunk and you're constantly trying to get in her space when she's told you more than once that she _doesn't want you. _Not like I'm her best buddy, but I don't like guys who try to guilt girls into shit." Santana wasn't backing off. Even though Finn was stepping away, the Latina was moving forward, shoving his chest to enunciate the end of each sentence. "And I really am getting tired of your ugly face constantly gaping at her. You look like a catfish mounted on a wall, so why don't you go somewhere else? Find a fountain to shove your face in."

"You're so out of line. Why do you even care? You're not even friends; you don't even like Rachel."

"Uh, hello," Rachel spoke up, "I am still here." She narrowed her eyes.

Still, she really didn't know why it seemed to be that every time Finn was about to cross some line with her, Santana was there.

"You don't know shit, you fucking oaf," Santana spat at him, shoving him by the shoulders again. "Obviously, because if you understood what the word 'no' means then you'd probably spend a lot less time going after a girl that _doesn't want you._"

"I guess I should say the same to you," Finn had finally gotten mad, and shoved Santana's shoulders in return.

The Latina looked furious and Rachel was a little confused about what Finn meant. She only had a moment to even consider it, because she lost her train of thought the moment Santana's fist connected with Finn's stomach, her other hand grabbing him by his balls and squeezing hard enough to make Finn crumple to the ground.

"What …what did he mean?" Rachel breathed, standing up. She reached for Santana's arm but the Latina jerked her arm away, looking mildly offended. "I don't understand," the shorter girl admitted, as if she were missing some key thing here. "Why do you keep stepping in on my behalf and then … ignoring me any other time?"

Santana rolled her eyes. She didn't give Rachel much of an answer. "Don't flatter yourself. It's nothing personal, I just don't like the guy," she stated before she strode back to her lunch table. A couple of the guys had come over to check on Finn and Rachel was left standing there in confusion. She gathered her things and hurried out of the lunch room, feeling more than a little embarrassed at the people staring at her and at her downed ex-boyfriend.

The diva made sure to steer clear of Santana the rest of the day, mostly because it was clear she wasn't going to get any answers and she didn't want anyone else getting hurt on her behalf.

####

It was a couple weeks before Rachel accepted the invitation to Puck's weekend gathering. This time it was just movies and alcohol. (Always the alcohol.) He had set up his basement with a projector and the glee club was spread around on the chairs and couches. Rachel arrived just in time for the start of their first movie and found the only seat empty was next to Santana. Of course.

It seemed like the universe was conspiring against Rachel. She settled in the seat next to Santana, pulling her legs to her chest and settling her chin on her knees to watch the movie. Mostly she tried to ignore Santana.

There was a nagging feeling, however, that Santana was watching her. So when she turned her head and caught Santana's eyes trained on her, she frowned a little bit, knit her eyebrows together in confusion.

"What?" She murmured just loud enough for Santana to hear.

"You should trim the hair in your ears," Santana's words seemed biting, and the Latina went back to watching the movie.

Rachel groaned in frustration. She touched her ears, though she knew Santana was just being defensive.

When the Latina got up a half an hour later to get something to drink, Rachel waited a moment before following her. Santana had apparently not been expecting it, because when she turned around in the dimly lit kitchen, her hand flew up in surprise. "Jesus, fucking… what the hell, Frodo?" Santana grumbled, passing by Rachel but not before the shorter girl could grab her by the elbow. "Get your hands off me, you imp."

"You can be as mean as you want but there's something you're not telling me," Rachel stated, still holding on to Santana's elbow, but with a lighter grip. "Although I'd really like it if you stopped calling me names," she added a little softer, pulling her hand away. "At least, you could call me something else once in a while."

"Mighty Mouse," Santana peeled Rachel's fingers from her elbow.

"I guess that isn't _as _bad, even though it makes _no _sense."

"What's your point?"

"You're protecting me from Finn, you're staring at me, and Finn is accusing you of something even though I don't quite understand what it is. I'd like to think I'm quick-witted," Rachel ignored the snort that came from Santana and continued, "but there's something I don't know."

"Please," Santana rolled her eyes. "I hit Finn two different times. It's not like I wouldn't have done it for anyone else being groped by him," she made an expression of disgust.

"And when I was embarrassingly drunk you took me upstairs and stayed in that bed with me. You said it was to be sure none of the boys would try something stupid."

"Point, please? There's a movie on in the other room, don't know if you noticed," she sipped at her drink and folded an arm over her torso as she stood there.

"And .. when .. during spin the bottle you –"

"Kissed you? That's the point of the game."

"You didn't kiss Brittany that way."

"She _is _my ex-girlfriend, and would you _please _lower your voice, if you're going to implicate things like a weird fangirl then I'd rather you not embarrass yourself in front of a crowd," Santana took another drink, seemingly a much bigger one. She looked like she was trying to avoid this conversation.

"You didn't kiss anyone else that way, either. I .. felt .. " Rachel blushed. She really didn't want to talk about this so blatantly, but she didn't know how to communicate what she was thinking, "I wasn't drinking that night and you kissed me like you _wanted _to do it."

"Dream on," Santana added. She took another swig of her drink and disappeared back into the basement. Rachel wanted to stop her but she wasn't quick enough; by the time she got to the stairs Santana was already retreating into the darkness of the basement, barely lit by the glow of the projector.

Rachel groaned in frustration, taking a moment to calm down before she rejoined the group. When she sat down, Santana shifted away from her just slightly, as if to prove a point. The shorter girl was piecing something together; she just didn't know what the bigger picture was yet.

####

It took a drunken pool party to start clearing things up. Even Rachel had partaken in some of the drinking and her head was feeling pleasantly buzzy. She was laying on one of the lounging chairs when she felt a damp body lay beside her, and she shifted out of instinct to allow them more room.

When she shifted, she felt fingers at her waist pulling her back where she had been laying. Rachel realized, as she looked down at the hand, that it was Santana. The Latina's eyes were closed and she was resting her head in the space next to Rachel's shoulder.

"Hope you don't mind sharing," Santana murmured drunkenly.

Rachel wasn't sure if she should say something.

"I'm really drunk again," Santana was mumbling quietly, her head dipped down near Rachel's shoulder. Her hand was trailing over Rachel's bare stomach, fingers dancing delicately over droplets of water.

"I may have noticed," the diva tried not to let her voice betray the fact that her heart was starting to pound. It was mainly Santana's wandering fingers – now trailing down Rachel's leg and up the inside of her thigh – causing her heart to slam against her ribs irregularly. She gasped when she felt Santana's hand grip the sensitive skin inside of her thigh, Rachel's hand grasping Santana's fingers to stop her from going any further. "Wh-.. what are you doing?"

Santana chuckled low in her throat, pulling her hand away from Rachel's and re-settling her palm over Rachel's stomach. Luckily for Rachel, it just rested there. "Sorry, not sorry."

Nobody seemed to notice the pair. Everyone else was in the pool or on the other side of it. Where Rachel lay, they were partially shadowed against the house. Rachel wasn't sure if she should be grateful, but she was a little glad nobody would catch Santana over here with her. Clearly Santana didn't care if anyone saw, but Rachel didn't have answers for questions that would inevitably arise if they were caught.

Santana's hand was starting to wander upward – over Rachel's stomach, along her ribs, and Rachel was sure she should have stopped the Latina but it felt really good. Maybe it was the buzzy feeling the alcohol gave her, but it was more likely the fact that Santana touching her gave her goosebumps. The Latina's fingers were warm, her skin soft and damp, and slipped across.

"You do realize this is _me, _right? I'm not … Quinn, or Brittany, or .."

"You're Rachel," she kind of purred Rachel's name. Two things: she hadn't called her a cruel name and the way she said Rachel's name made the girl gulp.

"So …" her syllables shivered from her lips as she moved to stop Santana's hand from making it to her bikini top. "Wh-" she breathed the beginning of the word but it took her some thought to finish it. Santana's fingernails scraped her skin lightly, even beneath Rachel's insistent hold. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why not? You want me to stop?" This last question was surprisingly thoughtful coming from a drunken person.

Rachel bit her bottom lip to keep herself from gasping when she felt Santana's lips at her throat. She couldn't get herself to say 'no' because this … really felt very good. She realized she'd let go of Santana's hand because she felt fingers glide at the base of her throat. Santana's body was pressing against Rachel's, and with the way they were laying it meant Rachel felt at least one of the Latina's thighs moving over her own.

"That's what I thought," Santana bit at the skin near Rachel's throat, her fingers gripping Rachel as the brunette gasped. "You wanna know something?" Her voice was silken, slipping over Rachel's consciousness and intoxicating her. Rachel's fingers were holding on to Santana's wrist. "I dream about you."

The brunette didn't know if those words were supposed to sound sexy, but she felt a burning low in her stomach as Santana's teeth grazed where Rachel's pulse beat the hardest. Idly, Rachel wondered if she'd leave marks on her. And the idea of it made Rachel's eyes flutter shut and groan a little. "I don't know if you should be doing this," she breathed, but she lacked any conviction.

"Doing what?" Santana feigned innocence as her hand slipped downward. Her fingers dipped into Rachel's bikini top, and Rachel squirmed under Santana's touch. She felt a warm hand cup her breast, squeeze, and Santana's thumb rolled over Rachel's nipple. Electric shocks ran through Rachel, down to her toes. She arched into the touch, felt Santana massaging and tugging and claiming.

She was letting Santana fondle her and she really didn't care that the glee club could catch them.

"Doing this?" The Latina was teasing her, drawing Rachel out of her shell and into a state of arousal that even alcohol couldn't dull. As she spoke, she pulled on Rachel's nipple just enough to make the brunette gasp and bury her face against Santana's shoulder, her hands flying to grasp at whatever part of Santana she could. She didn't want someone to hear her, so she muzzled her gasp against Santana's skin as she felt another tug. More electricity ran through her as she felt cold, damp fabric replace where Santana had just been touching. "I think you liked kissing me that night," Santana whispered against Rachel's ear, dragging her fingers over Rachel's other breast without disturbing the fabric.

Rachel whimpered, trying to maintain control over her body and the noises she was making, but Santana was intentionally making that difficult for her. "You have to stop this," her voice trembled against Santana's shoulder, though she was clutching to Santana's arms. "We're going to get caught. You don't even really want this," Rachel was trying to find some coherency; "You don't want me like this," Rachel insisted.

"You have no _idea _how I want you," Santana whispered, and her fingers massaged an aching nipple, drawing out every sensation for Rachel.

"You're lying," the shorter girl insisted, trying to convince herself Santana didn't mean it.

"That's what you think."

Santana's fingers trailed up Rachel's throat, and the brunette was having a hard time figuring out how to breathe when she was this turned on. Raven hair, damp and smelling of chlorine, fell over Santana's shoulder as she tilted Rachel's face toward her.

Santana's pupils were dilated, her face flushed, and Rachel barely had time to think through this situation before she felt Santana's tongue draw itself over her lip, just before Santana captured her mouth in a kiss that could have bruised her the next day. Rachel's arm slipped around Santana's neck and she found herself pulling Santana against her in a demanding sort of way.

The Latina's kiss was a consuming thing, and caused Rachel to burn all over. Their tongues met, teeth bit at bottom lips, and Santana was all but lying on top of the shorter girl. The Cheerio was claiming her territory and Rachel realized this. She whimpered into the kiss, felt a wrangled moan come from her throat, but Santana swallowed it down as she gripped Rachel's hair.

They parted for breath and Santana was smirking down at her, tongue drawing over her bottom lip in a hungry sort of way, covered Rachel's mouth again with her own. She kissed her again, this time for a moment less, and as she brushed her bottom lip over Rachel's, she breathed words that would haunt her, "I wanna make you shout my name."

Rachel let out a kind of weak gasp as she felt Santana's fingers slide underneath her bikini top again, massaging and pulling. Rachel's hand covered Santana's, as if urging her not to stop. The shorter girl felt like she was losing control of herself; Santana had awoken some kind of animal instinct inside her.

"Not now," Santana's words were a whisper against Rachel's lips, and suddenly Santana was getting off the chair and Rachel's body felt could. The shorter girl all but collapsed against her chair, covering her mouth with her hand and trying to get herself breathing properly. Her eyes shone with arousal as she felt Santana's fingers trail over her leg, her ankle, and finally losing contact as the Latina slipped into the pool.

When Rachel gathered her senses and could force herself to sit up, she saw that nobody had noticed a thing. Her body was still quivering by the time she got in the pool. The alcohol had left her system, but Santana had replaced one intoxicant with another.

It almost seemed like the pool party had been some kind of feverish fantasy, but when Rachel was brushing her hair the next day, she spotted a dark bruise on the side of her throat. She ran her fingers over it and felt a kind of thrill run through her; Santana had marked her.

She didn't think she'd ever be the kind of girl that would feel like this, but every time her mind turned to that night, turned to the words Santana purred at her, or recalled the way it felt to have the Latina's hands on her, Rachel found herself closing her eyes and trying to focus on anything but the burning lust running through her.

Logically, she knew that Santana clearly had some kind of feeling for Rachel, whether it was anything more than lust was up for debate. As she sat in class that day, she found herself half-distracted the whole day and kind of aching all over.

Santana didn't acknowledge her much at school, but when Rachel would catch the sight of her, the Latina's mouth would curve into a kind of predatory smirk before those dark eyes moved away from Rachel.

The diva kind of wondered when and if they'd have another encounter. Her body ached when she thought about just how much Santana had gotten under her skin, enthralled every hormone and desire and twisted it to her will. The emotional part of her wanted to know just what the Latina was up to, if she was just toying with Rachel. Then again, Santana didn't seem to want just _anybody. _For some anomalous reason, she'd chosen Rachel.

####

_And we don't care 'cause we're in too deep, can't think about giving it u__p…_

The next party was possibly the largest Puck had thrown. It wasn't just the glee club this time. His house was full of people Rachel had never seen, and when she arrived she felt a little overwhelmed. Maybe she was a little more nervous because she'd planned an outfit she wouldn't normally wear.

She was wearing a tank top with a plaid over-shirt and a pair of skinny jeans. She didn't know exactly what compelled her but Rachel knew she'd be seeing Santana here. The Latina had been texting her throughout the week – mostly small messages and surprisingly nothing that was overtly sexual. The messages were surprising for other reasons; they were kind of sweet and seemed genuinely thoughtful.

The day before, Santana had texted her something that was particularly surprising. It had simply said _I miss your stupid face. _Santana, after all, didn't give direct compliments. And when she did, Rachel was amused to find out they were given with a kind of begrudging honesty.

Rachel sifted through the crowd, and she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Since she didn't see Santana, she thought maybe the Latina would let her know where she was. And indeed, she was right. Rachel read the push notification, the message underneath reading just this:_basement._

The shorter girl made her way through the thick crowd of bodies and she opened the basement door, sneaking downstairs. She was hoping that not many people would be down there. And indeed, as she came to the bottom of the stairs there was nobody down there. Except Santana, who offered Rachel a red cup. "Chata?" Rachel inquired. When Santana nodded, she sipped at the drink. She followed the Latina to the couch and sat down.

"I'm not getting wasted tonight. Just … tipsy," Santana informed Rachel showing her that her cup was half as full as it normally would be.

Rachel wanted to ask why, but a part of her knew why. She swallowed the bit of Chata in her mouth and leaned across the space between them, her lips capturing Santana's in chaste kiss; it tasted of the creamy alcohol, and the kiss itself had a kind of figurative sweetness to it. "Why aren't you upstairs with everyone else?" Rachel asked softly as she sat back, sipping at her drink but all the while watching Santana with a gentle sort of expression.

Santana merely shrugged her shoulders. The Latina leaned forward, placing her drink on the coffee table and taking Rachel's from her hands, setting it beside her own. Rachel was going to ask something, but forgot what exactly that was as she felt Santana's hands on either side of her face and those intoxicating lips claiming her own.

Santana's sober kisses were surprisingly gentle, almost exploratory. It was the kind of kiss that conveyed emotion, and it made Rachel whimper quietly.

Rachel had never before seen this side of Santana. Usually the feisty girl was either really sarcastic, mean, or blatantly predatory. Right now, she was kissing Rachel with a kind of emotional fervor. When they broke apart, the shorter girl brushed her fingers over Santana's cheeks and met her eyes, feeling a surge of questions pop up in her mind.

"I don't know why I'm doing this," Santana admitted.

The admission surprised Rachel, and she stroked Santana's cheek, kissed the soft skin there. She felt Santana's fingers toying with the ends of her hair.

"I think I actually like you."

The confession made Rachel laugh a little bit, just because it was so unlike Santana to be unsure of herself. Honey-brown eyes searched the Latina's dark gaze.

"It started a while ago," Santana averted her eyes and continued toying with the ends of Rachel's hair. "I was having these stupid dreams, and then you'd be performing in glee and I couldn't stop watching. Then the parties happened, and I just lost control of what I was feeling."

Though the confession was vague and coming from anyone else would be a bare minimum, coming from Santana it spoke volumes. Though Rachel's words seemed to fail her, the only thing she could think to ask was, "Do you mean it?"

Santana pulled her hands away, laughing in a sort of anxious way, "Unfortunately, yes."

Rachel knew that a person like Santana – who was so defensively driven, so completely guarded – had a hard time dealing with actual feelings. To have her confessing things so honestly … that had to mean something. She shifted closer to Santana and decided to respond in the way Santana would understand best. She kissed her. It was a slow, coaxing kiss that was meant to assure Santana that the feelings were mutual and that she wasn't going to stomp all over the Latina's feelings.

Eventually Santana seemed to get the idea, and her confidence returned. Their kiss became more than gentle, but somehow better because it was driven by more than just hormones. Rachel gasped a little into Santana's mouth when she felt Santana's hand slip under her tank top and find its target. She all but dropped her head back against the couch as Santana's deft fingers went to work on her nipple. The Latina's other hand slipped under her ass, and she used her strength to shift them both so that Rachel was lying with her back on the couch. It gave the raven-haired girl the access she needed; she pushed Rachel's shirt off and the cold added to the sensations rolling through her. Santana's mouth was at her throat, kissing and biting the delicate skin there. The taller girl sucked, bit, her thumb rolling over a hard nipple.

Santana's hand started moving lower and she kissed Rachel hard, her torso pressing down on Rachel's body as her hand traveled to Rachel's waist. Talented fingers popped the button of Rachel's jeans, and as the brunette realized what was happening, she couldn't help the strangled moan that emerged.

Dark eyes studied her face as her fingers teased their way along the line of Rachel's panties. It was as if she was asking for permission. The brunette felt nervous butterflies and arousal, her skin burning, but the groan she managed seemed to answer for her. Her hips bucked up a little, and she gasped and pulled Santana's lips to her own as the Latina's fingers dipped in between her already wet folds.

She kissed Santana to keep herself from making too much noise, but when Santana put just the right pressure on her clit, rolling the nub underneath her fingertips, the brunette's head dropped back and she realized she wasn't going to be able to keep control of anything right now. Santana teased her, drawing her arousal to an aching point.

Rachel wanted more. Her hips were writhing under Santana's touch, and she grabbed the back of Santana's neck, kissing her hard before panting out the only word she could manage, and it wasn't a request. "Now," she bit at Santana's bottom lip and it evidently was just the encouragement Santana needed. The Latina pushed a finger inside of Rachel, and Rachel's head rolled back onto the cushion of the couch as her hips rose into the touch.

Santana's thigh was between both of Rachel's, and the weight of Santana's body on top of her own made the experience just that much more pleasurable. The Latina's finger was soon replaced by two, and Rachel's hips built up a slow, canting rhythm to match the one inside of her. Santana was doing things to her that Rachel didn't even know how to explain.

The shorter girl found her hips moving just a little quicker, jarring just a little harder against the fingers stroking inside of her. Her breath was coming in pants and quiet moans, her hands clutching at Santana's ass. She found when she squeezed, Santana seemed to let out a little gasp. It turned Rachel on more. Her eyelids were heavy but she kept contact with Santana, noting the flush of the Latina's face. Soon after, Santana picked up the pace when Rachel wasn't expecting it and she couldn't keep her eyes open anymore. Her fingers gripped, tugged at Santana's hips, the Latina's fingers deep inside of her.

Santana had her moaning obscenely, her hips undulating and rolling into the demanding touch inside her. The touch became more insistent, harder, faster, enough to make Rachel whine and breathe incoherent words against Santana's mouth. She was gasping, her mind completely out of control. The noises she heard herself making were vulgar – pants, moans, a deep-throated whine that worked its way through her body. She felt Santana's mouth cover her own, claiming her in a hungry kiss.

Rachel was being thoroughly fucked and it awakened a kind of primal hunger. She kissed Santana with just as much demand as her lover. "_Yesss_," the word hissed itself from between her teeth, and the Latina groaned in approval at Rachel's vulgarity, the blatantly sexual noises coming from her throat.

All it took was the curling of Santana's fingers, just the right pressure against her clit, and Santana moaning _baaaaby _against her mouth and suddenly Rachel was careening into an abyss, her body and muscles locking around the still-moving fingers, a moan ripping itself free from her lungs, and she rocked against Santana, clutched to her; she felt like her insides were exploding, catching fire, and she cried out in a kind of release as she trembled beneath Santana. The first orgasm settled itself deep inside, her whole self throbbing and wanting and releasing Rachel's senses into oblivion. She came hard, felt Santana gripping her just as intensely as Rachel clutched at her. To Rachel's surprise and pleasure, Santana didn't stop what she was doing.

Rachel's eyes locked with Santana's; the Latina looked in absolute rapture. There was something more than lust in the gaze above her. Rachel's hips canted upward despite her trembling, despite the way her muscles felt spent, and she kissed Santana passionately and headily.

She felt a third finger and she lost her mind again, bucking against Santana's skilled fingers, panting and releasing something like a whine and a plea. Rachel's felt like her body had reached some higher state. She vaguely heard herself panting, "_God, _please … don't stop," and she didn't know how much more her body could take but she wanted more.

Santana sent her spinning into some kind of oblivion, some place beyond description, because her body arched upward, their torsos pressed so tightly together that Rachel was scratching her nails down Santana's back.

Her obviously experienced lover finally let her come back to earth, drawing her fingers out of Rachel's throbbing insides. The brunette was panting and trying to remember what words were when she watched Santana taste her fingers. It was oddly arousing, especially when Santana leaned down and captured Rachel in a soft but heady kiss.

They stay like that long enough for Rachel to recover, and as Santana pulled Rachel's shirt down and buttoned her jeans for her, it seemed like there was a kind of loving affection to the way the Cheerio helped her get herself together. She stood with Santana's help, her legs feeling like jelly, semi-numb from both the exertion and the pleasure.

The Cheerio stopped at the top of the stairs, not opening the door yet, and leaned down, capturing Rachel's lips in an honestly passionate kiss, one that took Rachel's breath away and caused her to have to grasp the railing beside her.

The pair re-emerged moments later, and luckily the house was crowded enough that nobody seemed to notice Santana practically holding Rachel up. It wasn't for another hour or two that Rachel could fully stand on her own.

#####

They had a few more passionate encounters, and Rachel realized that all her vocal lessons gave her an incredible talent that came in handy for making Santana beg. The brunette found that her favorite moment was when Santana would clutch at her shoulders, those tanned thighs locking near Rachel's head, and she could hear Santana praising God even though the Latina was an atheist.

They hadn't discussed a relationship exactly, but one night when Santana snuck through Rachel's window and greeted her with a kiss, she'd whispered, "_Jesus, _I missed you," against Rachel's lips.

They didn't have sex that night. They didn't do anything but fall asleep together. And that's when Rachel understood that they may not be in love, but there was more to this than sex.

It would take six more months of nights like these. And when Santana murmured, "I love you," against Rachel's lips and kissed her, the brunette felt her heart swell, and she claimed the Latina with a kiss that invariably confessed the exact same feelings. Just in case, she traced her thumb across Santana's throat.

"I _really _love you," she whispered in Santana's ear as the Latina's arms wrapped around her. She held fast, feeling gratitude swell inside her. Everything just seemed to make sense with Santana, and Rachel knew she'd gotten lucky in a multitude of ways.


End file.
